


The Four F's (or three of them at least)

by SpicyCheese



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Fluffy, Humor, and wherever they go chaos quickly follows, because it's Root and Shaw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-03-17
Packaged: 2018-03-18 08:07:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3562385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpicyCheese/pseuds/SpicyCheese
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shaw just wants to get some dinner. Alone. Root has other plans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Four F's (or three of them at least)

*_*_*_*_*

Shaw’s boot connects squarely with the man’s face. The corners of her mouth quirk up in hint of a smirk at the satisfying sound of crunching bones and the clatter of his gun hitting the asphalt.

The man collapses in a heap and appears unconscious, but she is never one to assume anything. She nudges his firearm out of reach with the toe of her boot before kicking him in the ribs for good measure. Still unresponsive, a voice in the back of her mind- one that suspiciously reminds her of Harold- nags at her until she concedes, crouching down to check if he’s actually still alive. Satisfied with the pulse she finds, she’s about to stand again, when a shadow falls over her.

“Looks like you didn’t need backup after all.”

Shaw scowls at the ground. “Which is what I said before I left,” she starts, before standing and turning to face Root. “And yet here you are.”

“What can I say? I enjoy watching you work,” Root smirks, reaching out to brush some rubble off Shaw’s sleeve.

Shaw swats Root’s hand away with a little more force than probably necessary, muttering a gruff “ _Whatever_ ” as she finishes brushing off the rest of her coat herself.

Lately, Shaw had been spending more time with Root than she ever could have thought possible. The Machine had been pairing them up and whisking them off to different side missions together more and more often, it seemed.

At first she’d loathed the idea of spending _any_ amount of time with Root and would cringe each time the hacker would come to her with a new assignment. Over time though, things started to change and now it seems they’d fallen into a routine:

Root would appear suddenly, unannounced. Shaw would ask (not politely either) why she was there, and the hacker would then take her time, meandering around the purpose of her visit as long as Shaw’s patience could stand it before finally revealing the most enticing (i.e. dangerous) details of the case. She’d list those details like a cat presenting a freshly caught bird for their owner, and then she’d sit back- lips curled smugly and eyes shining with the promise of violence and gunfire- and wait. She'd give Shaw _that look_ and wait for Shaw to agree to follow her into the fire.

It was the same every time now and it always seemed to end the same way too- with Shaw rolling her eyes and grumbling, but agreeing all the same. In the end, Shaw always goes along with it, though she still can’t figure out why.

...Well, that’s not entirely true. It’s the violence she enjoys. She knows that's what she’s in it for and she’s happy to remind Root (and herself) at every opportunity that this is the ONLY reason. The only reason she’s willing to consider, at any rate. And so far, whenever Root’s leveled _that look_ at Shaw, she's always followed through and delivered the kind of trouble that Shaw loves. In fact, that look has become something of a stamp of approval. A guarantee.

And _-_ not that Shaw would EVER admit this to Root- as long as there were people to shoot at and things to blow up, Root wasn’t the worst of company. Over time she’d grown to... _tolerate_ Root. The problem was that now Root seemed to be following her around when they were at back in the city too. And without all the excitement of the mission to focus on, all that was left was just Root. A _lot_ of Root.

“Ms. Shaw, everything alright?” Harold’s clipped voice- _not imagined this time_ \- rings over the com, interrupting her thoughts.

Shaw looks down at the man at her feet; a museum curator who was importing semi-automatics in the same crate as his paintings. “Yeah. Guy’ll be eating through a tube for the next few months though." At that, Shaw feels her own stomach give a growl of protest. "And speaking of which... Anything else on the radar right now Finch?”

“Not at the moment Ms. Shaw.”

“Good, then I’m getting something to eat,” she says, glancing back up at Root and adding “ _Alone_ ,” for emphasis before moving to reload her side arm.

Root mock pouts, “But the fun’s barely begun. Are you sure there’s nothing else you need... Nothing else I could _help_ you with?” She hums.

“The only things I’m interested in is good food and a good fight. I’ve already had one today, and I don’t need any help with the other.” Shaw finishes loading the new clip and tucks the Beretta Nano back into her coat pocket.

“I feel like there’s usually a third thing people are interested in doing that begins with ‘F’... I’m happy to help with that one...” Root purrs, leaning in a bit towards Shaw, adding a wink.

Shaw simply rolls her eyes and checks Root’s shoulder roughly, pushing the hacker out of the way as she walks past her, through the alley and out towards the street.

From far behind her, she thinks she hears Root saying something- _probably just talking to the Machine_ \- but doesn’t give it a second thought as she exits onto the sidewalk and navigates through the crowd towards the subway. It’s not until she reaches the stairs that she senses the taller woman’s presence at her side again. Shaw doesn’t bother looking to verify, she just grits her teeth and completely ignores Root as she descends the staircase, and plows through the subway turnstile. When she has to pause to wait for the train though, she gives up and faces Root.

“What are you doing?”

“Joining you for dinner,” Root shrugs simply, as if it were obvious.

“No.” Shaw responds flatly, turning her gaze away from Root and letting it settle on the digital sign announcing the train’s schedule.

 _ETA 8 minutes,_ She reads. _Fuck._

“Oh come on. What’s wrong with a couple of gal pals getting together for a dinner date?” Root bumps Shaw’s shoulder playfully as she says it and Shaw can _hear_ the look Root is giving her.

All the more reason for Shaw not to look. “Don’t make me lose my appetite.”

Root chuckles beside her. “Well, if _that’s_ all you’re worried about then I have some ideas how we could work that appetite back up again...”

Shaw groans inwardly, but says nothing, knowing by now that Root is just trying to get a rise out of her anyway she can. As if sensing this, Root barely lets another minute pass before adding, “So where are we going anyway?”

Shaw clenches her fists, and counts to 5 in her head before answering- making sure her voice is measured, and controlled. “Well, _I_ am going to get tacos. I feel like something... _crunchy_...” She thinks of the museum curator’s nose and represses a chuckle at her private joke.

“Okay, but _where_?”

“Alanza's. East 3rd and A. Best tacos in the city,” Shaw growls out. She notes the train schedule display again. _ETA 7 minutes_. _How is that even possible if we’ve been standing here for at least 5???_

"Best in the city huh. You really think so?"

Root’s voice is light, teasing, and it’s grating on Shaw’s last nerve. "I _know_ so," Shaw replies, her jaw protesting a bit from grinding down so hard. She briefly considers her options as far as what she could do to completely incapacitate Root without causing too much of public scene before ditching the idea.

“Oh. Well, _She_ disagrees.”

“ _What?”_ Shaw snaps her head to look at the taller woman finally, who is now grinning at Shaw like she’s won a prize.

If Root can see how close Shaw is actually physically harming her, she doesn’t show it. Instead, she smiles lightly and explains. “The Machine. She disagrees. She says the tacos at Casa de Juan on 10th Ave and West 15th street, are better. She recommends we go there instead.”

“Yeah, well, excuse me if I trust my own taste buds over a _computer’s_ ,” Shaw huffs, eyeing the arrival display like it’s personally offended her. _ETA 5 min. Well at least that’s progress._

They settle into what Shaw feels is a comfortable silence, for her at least- _because who cares what Root thinks or feels_ \- but a thought keeps nagging at her. It continues to do so until the words come tumbling out of her mouth, just fast enough for Shaw to regret them. “How on earth does _the_ _Machine_ where to find the best taco anyway?”

“I’d be happy to ask Her if you like but if I were to guess I’d say it’s probably a compilation of internet, newspaper, and restaurant reviews, individualized social media reporting, tapped phone calls and texts, video surveillance of patrons, the owner’s monthly income off his taxes-“

“-Okay, okay, fine.” Shaw cuts her off and hopes that is the end of it. She glances up again. _ETA: Train Arriving_. _Thank god._ Shaw starts to move towards the slowing train.

Root follows closely at her side. “Soooo that’s it? With all that intel you’re still staying the course? _Tsk-tsk_ Sameen...and here I thought we were after the _best_ taco in the city..."

"Yes, and that's why _I_ am going to Alanza's." The train stops in front of her and the doors open with a mechanical _whoosh_. Shaw moves to board the train- beginning to push upstream past the disembarking passengers even- but Root grabs her arm, pulling her back onto the platform. Shaw snaps out of her grip and pushes Root away roughly, for good measure. "What is _wrong_ with you?"

"How do you _know_ it's the best taco if you don't try the other one though?" Root continues to press the issue. _Seriously?_ Shaw thinks. _This is getting ridiculous._

"Root..." She issues her warning, jaw clenched and stomach growling. Shaw’s acutely aware that she's about to miss her train if let’s this insanity go on any longer and is at the point where punching Root is looking like the only option.

Root doesn’t seem fazed. If anything, now she looks even more determined. "You know if I didn’t know any better..." Root begins moving steadily closer and closing most of the gap between them. "...It kinda seems like you're _afraid_ She's going to be right and you’ll be wrong. Is that what you're afraid of Sameen?"

“I’m not _afraid_ of anything.”

“Hm...” Root hums, as she comes to a halt just in front of Shaw. A smile twists on her lips and her eyes burn particularly brightly as she gazes down. “Prove it.”

Root is far closer than Shaw is comfortable with, but she doesn’t move. She doesn’t stand down. Instead, she digs her nails into her palms so deeply they might draw blood and meets Root’s eyes and glares back. She knows what Root is doing she’s not falling for it. Because Root is giving her _the_ _look._  The _I-double-dog-dare-you_ look. The _I-know-something-you-don’t-and-trust-me-you’re-going-to-enjoy-it_ look that usually precedes a particularly “fun” assignment from the Machine. Shaw isn’t sure how today’s dinner fits that description, but it’s Root’s strongest bait and Shaw is not buying it. Not this time. Not with tacos in the picture.

She _knows_ what Root is doing, but it's still apparently effective because it’s distracted Shaw just long enough that she doesn’t hear sound of the train's doors closing behind her until it’s too late.

Shaw spins on her heel, yelling _“HEY!”_ and slamming her palms on the closed door with enough force to startle a few passengers inside.

“ _Step back- train disembarking_ ” The conductor’s voice crackles over the train’s exterior intercom and Shaw feels Root tug the back of her coat to keep her from inflicting any more property damage.

Shaw wrenches out of the grip and having been denied taking her anger out on the train car, opts to grab a fist full of the Root’s jacket and slam _her_ against the nearby concrete pillar instead.

“You just cost me my dinner.” And even as she says it, her stomach rumbles unpleasantly again.

“Look at is an opportunity. Now, you get to try the other place, maybe even prove Her wrong...”

Shaw presses _harder_ , the fist-full of jacket doing nothing to cushion her knuckles from digging in deep enough to bruise Root's skin underneath.

Root makes an involuntary hiss in protest but the hurt doesn’t seem reach her eyes. In fact, that look seems to have only intensified with the pain inflicted. Root smirks again and adds, “I’ll buy” as Shaw’s knuckles bury further into her flesh.

“Fine,” Shaw huffs, relinquishing her hold roughly. “If it gets you to shut up.” She doesn’t waste any time before turning away and stalking off in search of the new destination’s train. Root’s not far behind, silently ( _thank god_ ) falling in step beside her.

They arrive at the new train’s platform and Shaw doesn’t think it’s a coincidence _at all_ that they don’t have to wait more than a _minute_ before the train arrives.

*_*_*_*_*

Shaw always closes her eyes, just for a moment, after the first bite of food. She’d never call it a ritual- she’s never considered herself a spiritual person in any way- but she can admit that the act is more meaningful than simply habit. Food makes her feel... good. Well, less angry at any rate. Maybe even _content_. Anything that makes her feel, especially that way, deserves a certain amount of respect and reverence.

So she takes that moment, a split second after each first bite, to close her eyes and focus on that _feeling_. Let’s herself enjoy it for the few moments it might be there, since there’s no guarantee when or if she’ll feel it again.

Today is no different- despite the absolute rage she’s feeling towards her present company. So as they exit the small grocery/takeout place that is Casa de Juan, and Shaw leans in and takes her first bite of her carnitas taco, she closes her eyes, just for that brief moment, and savors.

 _Fuck,_ she thinks _. That’s a good taco._

When she opens her eyes again, Root is there, standing her standard too-close, and staring with a look on her face that Shaw doesn’t want to bother to interpret. Shaw is quick to return her own expression to her normal glower. “What?” she barks, a bit of taco spitting and landing on Root’s shirt.

“Just waiting for the verdict,” Root smiles serenely.

Shaw shrugs, doing her best to look unimpressed. “It’s a good taco,” she mumbles, before gobbling the rest of that one, in two enormous bites.

She’s already occupied grabbing the second taco, so she isn’t ready when Root reaches forward, wiping a bit of salsa from where it’s dribbled down her chin. The taller woman is smart enough to withdraw it before Shaw can do it for her. Root’s eyes have that glint to them again, the one like she’s sharing an adulterous secret, as she adds, “But was She right? Is it _everything you wanted.._.”

Shaw chews her last bite of taco meticulously slow, as she feels a smirk tug at the corner of her mouth. “I guess that’s between me and the Machine.”

Root grins widely. "Well either way I'm glad your satisfied because _She_ says the antique place next door is about to have some troubling company. The owner refused to pay the 'dues' he owed to the local biker gang and She says it'd be best if we intervene when they arrive in a few minutes to collect."

"God I _knew_ it.” Shaw grumbles, rolls her eyes skyward. “You know, next time the Machine has another number for us, you can skip the pretense and just say so.”

“Where’s the fun in that? Besides, it wasn’t Her idea. I asked her to find something like this for us...”

Shaw blinks at this. “You asked the Machine... to find more work for us...”

Root grins and shrugs, “I know what you like, and besides how else am I going to get you to go on a date with me?”

“This is _not_ a date...” Shaw growls, wiping her hands on a napkin before crumpling it up and tossing it in a nearby trashcan.

"Food and a fight, Dinner and a show... seems like a date to me...” They hear a crash of glass from the Antique place and some yelling. “Speaking of which, sounds like the show’s starting without us.” Root starts to stride towards the next building over, withdrawing two guns from her purse. She pauses midway, turning around. “Come on Sweetie, you don’t want to miss all the fun. Maybe we’ll find time afterwards for that third ‘F’ activity,” she grins at Shaw and there’s _that_ look again. That look daring her to cross that line.

Shaw rolls her eyes once more and shakes her head. She’s not sure if she’s admonishing herself or Root- _probably both_ \- but it doesn’t matter because it always ends the same way.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Shaw grumbles, gun already in hand, as she follows Root into the fray.

*_*_*_*_*

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, so this is my first fic for POI fandom, so all comments, suggestions, etc., are entirely welcome. I was thinking of continuing this a bit too, the next bit from Root's perspective... let me know if you're interested!
> 
> Oh, and the title is referring to the 4 basic human drives the Hypothalamus regulates: Fighting, Feeding, Fleeing and, er, mating :)


End file.
